How the war wrecked Winston’s waistline
As Churchill again takes centre stage, Stephen Doig heads to his old tailor and discovers the wartime leader’s sartorial secrets in the paperwork
‘His father was a longtime customer and we can see that he brought his son in for the first time in 1906, when he was 19’
‘What is clear is that Churchill was an adventurous dresser for his time’
Of all the near mythic stories about Sir Winston Churchill – his wit, his steeliness, his leadership through some of the worst moments in British history – there’s a tale that perfectly encapsulates another aspect of his character: his sense of polish and appropriateness, clearly acquired at an early age. When still a young student at Harrow, Churchill wrote to his mother requesting a list of essentials, with the terse instruction to send “breeches from Tautz” – a rather exacting specification from this precocious, though clearly well dressed, young man.
Churchill was referring to E Tautz, the now 151-year-old tailoring institution that would become a key contributor – along with the likes of Henry Poole, Turnbull & Asser and Locks – to his iconic wardrobe, one defined by its impeccably tailored three-piece suits, elegant bow ties and dashing hats.
It’s an aesthetic that is depicted to perfection in Darkest Hour (see review, opposite), starring Gary Oldman as the leader, swollen through the magic of prosthetic make-up and dressed – by costume designer Jacqueline Durran – in the same Savile Row suits and gentlemanly accessories that the man himself patronised throughout his life.
“There was a moment where Gary Oldman put on one of the suits we had made him – a replica of a doublebreasted charcoal wool suit that was one of Churchill’s – and you could really see him suddenly becoming the man,” says Simon Cundey, managing director and seventh-generation family member of the esteemed Henry Poole & Co, a 200-year-old Savile Row institution that today creates suits for statesmen and stars alike. Cundey and his team were drafted in (with only six weeks’ notice – normally a suit would take several months to craft and involve several fittings) because of the house’s enduring relationship with the man throughout his life. Many of the most defining moments of Churchill’s career – and by default British history – feature Henry Poole’s suits. He wore one to the Queen’s coronation. The pinstriped single-breasted number he wears in a 1940 image holding a Tommy Gun – top hat in place and cigar firmly present – is from Poole’s.
It’s something of a tradition among the hallowed halls of Savile Row that a father introduces his son to his tailor when he reaches manhood – a sartorial rite of passage. This is how a young Winston found himself being measured up for his first suit. “His father, Randolph Churchill, was a longtime customer, and we can see from our ledgers that he brought his son in for the first time in 1906, when he was 19,” says Cundey. Any tailoring house worth its salt keeps a document of a client’s measurements and requirements: the one for Churchill charts his expanding frame, as well as his particular preferences. “When he was first measured he was rather a scrawny fellow, but if you chart his measurements they slowly change,” says Cundey, understatedly.
As to the particulars of his style choices, Churchill was steadfastly classic. “He was a traditionalist, opting for classic morning suits in charcoal or black. As was the style at the time, he favoured a sloping shoulder, and details on the jacket to accommodate his watch fob and extra inlays,” Cundey says. The latter – extra cloth concealed within the seams – also allows for weight fluctuations; Churchill liked to have an extra four inches on hand just in case. The pocket watch in question was by Breguet, which recreated it for the film.
Like any public figure of a certain standing – think of the Queen with her vivid block colour dresses and unwavering hairstyle – it’s clear that Churchill used his style to convey a message and cement a status. While his frame was undoubtedly imposing, Churchill used tailoring to add gravitas and power, and the silhouette – a Crombie coat with a wide lapel, stiff collar and trail of cigar smoke leading up to the signature Homburg hat – from Lock & Co Hatters, recreated by the historic firm for the film – was a sign of consistency and British strength in our most tumultuous time, an indicator that, whatever winds were blowing, the innate classicism and upright proprietary of the British aesthetic would not falter. Just as red lipstick sales surge in a recession – women putting on a bold front to face frightening times – so too did Churchill ensure he was immaculately turned out and the finer details attended to: pocket square just so, hat in place and Oxfords polished. “He was consistent, and turned suiting into a uniform that made him immediately identifiable,” says Cundey.
And alongside his very English style of sensibility, what’s clear – particularly in his more experimental forays away from No10 and Parliament – is that Churchill was an adventurous dresser for his time. This is most evident in the Siren Suit; millennials might have their onesies, but it was Churchill who invented the all-in-one for men. Noticing the workmen in his Chartwell garden in their practical boiler suit-style garments, he enlisted his shirtmaker, Turnbull & Asser, to create a lightweight wool, pinstriped version, the rationale being that he could throw it on quickly should an air raid rouse him from No10 (although the glossy python slippers that he liked to pair it with might have been a tad impractical for a night in an air raid shelter).
It’s clear that Churchill didn’t just engage with style, he actively enjoyed it and carried his sense of polish into his off-duty life; he was known to wear beautifully quilted silk dressing gowns with plush shawl collars from New & Lingwood around Chartwell; and, during a bout of ill health in Italy in 1944, happily greeted the world’s military leaders at hospital in one of his opulent dressing gowns.
It’s also thanks in part to Churchill that evening slippers became a dandyish option for after-dark dress; when cocktail hour drew close, he’d slip into a velvet pair with bespoke initials by N Tuczek.
“Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference,” Churchill says in one of his most enduring sound bites – and it’s clear that he had sartorial chutzpah in spades.